


Propriety

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Self-Discovery, Sexual Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: No matter what Rex said, he shouldn't. He mustn't. He's a commander and an ARC trooper. If nothing else, he should have control of his most basic impulses.The surprise in General Kenobi's lovely blue eyes tell him differently.





	Propriety

No matter what Rex said, he shouldn't. He mustn't. He's a commander and an ARC trooper. If nothing else, he should have control of his most basic impulses.

The surprise in General Kenobi's lovely blue eyes tell him differently.

"Oh." Is all the General manages.

He stares at his General for an indeterminate amount of time, trying to figure out just from the play of light across the other man's face how desperately he'd really screwed up. The General gives little to no reaction, other than the way his eyes keep flickering, his breathing steady and deep. He's got his General pinned against the wall of a hallway in the guest quarters of the ship, there the Jedi and dignitaries travelling with them sleep. The Admiral aboard is already asleep and there are no other Jedi accompanying this vessel (General Skywalker and Commander Tano are aboard the  _Endurance_ next to them). Shinies and soft-shells don't travel around here at night, no need to. But even then, he feels like someone's going to round the corner onto this scandalous scene and he's going to be shipped back to Kamino post-haste to be washing floors for the rest of his life. 

At long last, seemingly when his General realizes that he won't be moving any time soon for anything less than an attack alert or the stopping of his heart, Kenobi shifts in the slightest. 

He flinches, like he's going to be struck, but his General only reaches up to up his face, something soft coming to his face. "Was that all you wanted?"

He winces, his fingers flexing against the hard metal of the wall and his body jerking like he was going to run, but was frozen. "G-General?"

His General's eyes soften again, differently, and his mouth twists ruefully. He pulls the clone's head forward, gentle as anything, and presses their foreheads together. "My dear Cody," he murmurs, "it's alright. I'm not upset with you."

He shudders, relaxing into the ginger's touch, but unable to tear his gaze away, even to close his eyes and regain some composure. "I'm sorry, General. I will endeavour-"

"Shh, Cody. You're getting ahead of yourself." He didn't know when the General's other hand had risen, but he knew that the sensation of someone stroking the short hairs on the back of his neck was his new favourite feeling. The General seemed so small like this, caged in  his arms against a wall. He wonders if he ever noticed it before, maybe when this whole thing began. 

"It's inappropriate for me to- to-"

The General stroked the back of his neck with the tips of his fingers, such a tender motion, and kicked his body off the wall. It was cumbersome, even if their armour was light and made specifically minimalist, but the General had demonstrated time and time again that the Jedi took particular pains to be as flexible as possible, in all ways. It had been the star of many of his late-night fantasies, when he'd wake up with a soiled undersuit in his bunk.They were fully pressed together, from shin to pectorals, and he didn't know what to make of the closeness. 

"We've been together since I got command of the 212th, have we not?" The General asked, voice low and intimate, murder to his resolve. "That's many years you and I have been at each other's sides. I do not find your attention  _unwelcome,_ as it were, but I would like to know what, after all this time, sparked it."

He didn't know, though. He didn't know why his resolve broke after all this time. He'd come down to this hall with all the proper intentions - deliver a final mission report from the ground troops from the planet they just left, maybe find out if the ginger knew where they would be shipped off to next, chat a little. The General had become one of his close companions, someone he felt close to, friendly affection for. He didn't know when this regulation-breaking crush had become a law-breaking desire. 

"Ship me out, General." He manages, his heart picking up speed in his chest like he's surrounded by laser fire instead of the hum of a quiet ship. "Get me transferred."

The General's eyes blew wide and concern took him over. "Cody, what do you mean? What's been going on? Have I acted inappropriately?"

"Kriff, no." He took a shaky breath, very much aware that despite his concern, the General hadn't given him any more room.  "I am going against code, sir. I am unable to perform properly at your side and therefore am unfit to serve there."

The General's grip about his head firmed and those soft lines of his face hardened. A stone of dread formed in his gut because this look was the one reserved for General Skywalker's bull-headed, idiotic plans. "Cody, I want the truth from you, right now. You're my Commander and I am the one who decides whether or not you are fit to remain at such a rank." His face softened again, all affectionate concern. "So, what is it that's  _really_ bothering you, my dear Cody?"

All of this time, he'd been trying to think of words, of the right thing to say, a good way to explain it. But, he was a man bred and trained for combat. He was meant to demonstrate his worth and skill in action, and words were only for stark, bleak deliveries of orders or reports. In light of that knowledge, he settled for the only explanation he thought might be fitting. 

He kisses him again, pressing him even more firmly to the wall. 

His General seems more prepared for this one, taking the motion much more gracefully. But that was  General Kenobi, an effortless, carefree grace about him that attracted everyone. Duchess Satine, that Sith witch,  _General Skywalker_. There was nothing not to like about his easy charm, natural flirtation, endless calm and soothing affection. 

The hands on his head angled him a little bit with with a little groan, his General was kissing him back. It was all soft, careful touches. As brilliant a fighter as the man was, his General didn't  _like_ to fight. He didn't thrive on aggression the way Skywalker did, nor on adrenaline, like Tano. He enjoyed the calm, endeavored to try and share it with as many of the men under his command as he could. Many didn't appreciate the way the General's mind worked, but their lives were hectic and short - peace and calm weren't always bad things and no clone had ever turned the General's offer of group meditation down. So, in hindsight, he should have known that even in something primal like kissing and sex, his General would be elegant and refined. 

"Not here, my darling," he murmurs with when he breaks away, combing his fingers through his Commander's short hair. "Come."

He hits the button to allow them into his quarters and Cody all at once knows that he's doomed himself. 

* * *

Laying on the General's bed, he is nervous. His General is next to him, both of them on their sides. They shed the bulky parts of their armour, all of the white plastoid neatly arranged on the nearby chaise lounge. He'd been surprised when the General had offered to help take it off, doing so slowly and carefully. 

He is in his black undersuit, his General matching. Their legs are tangled together, the General with his arms wrapped around the Commander's neck, the clone holding the Jedi close by the waist. They kiss, slow and unhurried, like the galaxy will stop just for them and give them all the time there is to be spared. 

"So beautiful, Cody." The General murmurs, stroking down the side of his face. 

"Six million others just like it." He jokes, but the truth of the matter hurts somewhat. Regular people fall in love with individuals, not the same man made into an army. 

"No, there is only one Cody." The General replies, fingers skating into his hair. "Jedi, remember? You all feel different to me. Every one of you, and your light beckons me most."

The General's body is harder than he expected it to be. Not that the Jedi doesn't pull his weight or slack in the fighting, but there is something so  _soft_ about his General's presentation that lends the idea credence. The Jedi is a notoriously calm, composed man with a friendly, open demeanor. There is very little he will not do to help someone if he can. He's one of the things the 212th brags about, that their General is the best one there is, the strongest one, the smartest one, the affectionate one. 

"Sweetling," the General murmurs, brushing their lips together, "I can sense you thinking. What about?"

Force save him, even the man's beard was soft and smooth. "About how you're my General, and my pride at that."

Something sad washes over his General's face, serene even in despair. "I wish I could change it."

He blinks. "Change what?"

"This." The Jedi's hand slides down to where the GAR symbol is stitched into his shoulder. "I wish I could free you. You deserve the chance, the  _choice_. I fear I am a symbol of that which oppresses you."

He pulls the General closer, running a hand up his back to cup his neck. That sadness lingers, the grief and regret. "The Jedi didn't commission our creation. The Jedi are what keep us alive. We're stretched thin, but you don't understand what it is like to serve under a GAR General instead of a Jedi. The 212th is your men, sir, no one else's, even when we're taking orders from someone else. We know that even when we're handed off, you will come back, you will return to us and it'll go well again."

He is trying to comfort, but his General's pretty blue eyes (fragile like a butterfly's wing, not gemstone like Skywalker's - beautiful but sharp and unyielding) begin to drown, tears beading on his delicate copper eyelashes. "We don't deserve your loyalty."

He hugged his General the way he hugged his brothers, close to the chest and desperate, like the last time every time. The Jedi tucked his face into the clone's neck, holding him back just as tightly. "General, the weight of the Republic's sins are not yours to bear. You're a Jedi, not a Senator."

"No one will ever be good enough to deserve you." His General holds him with all of that raw affection always hidden away behind his commanding exterior. "Least of all me."

There are a dozen names that come to mind in that second of people who deserve their loyalty far less than Kenobi, but he refrains. Telling his General who the abusers are in this fragile moment might just drive him away. And he doesn't want that. 

The General feels so  _good_ in his arms, so strong and beautiful and calm, like a mountainside creek on Naboo, or one of the healing springs in the meadowlands of Mandalore. He bubbles with life and vibrancy and genuine care. Not a single man in the 212th has ever questioned their General's judgement and every time, he rewards their faith. Even now, when he was terrified he'd finally overstepped, the Jedi graciously made room, gave his Commander a little bit of space in his overworked heart. 

"General . . ."

The General huffs a laugh wiping at his eyes a little before kissing his Commander's cheek. "I think we're well past formality, don't you?"

He blinks, surprised. "Sir?"

"Obi-Wan. In comfort and in private, please call me by name."

Not an order, a request. Simply for that, he decides he will. 

"Obi-Wan." He tries the name out, tasting foreign on his tongue, but his General shivers and they resume their kiss. 


End file.
